As Isaki walked through the village, the familiar streets brought a sense of calm. The moon was high now, its light casting a silver glow over the rooftops. The village was quiet, save for the distant sounds of owls hooting in the trees and the occasional murmur of late-night conversations from houses nearby.

When Isaki finally reached his house, the familiar sight of it brought a sense of comfort. The small, sturdy home stood quietly under the moonlight, its warm glow seeping through the windows. Isaki paused for a moment at the door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open.

Inside, his father sat by the hearth, the gentle crackle of the fire filling the room with warmth. Izaku looked up as Isaki entered, a proud smile spreading across his face.

"Welcome home," Izaku said, his voice deep and comforting, like it always was.

Isaki closed the door behind him, feeling the warmth of the fire wash over him. "I'm back," he replied, removing his cloak and hanging it by the door.

Izaku gestured for him to sit by the fire. "Tora told me the news," he began. "You passed the third year."

Isaki smiled, feeling a swell of pride. "Yeah, I did. It wasn't easy, but I made it."

Izaku nodded, his eyes shining with pride. "I also heard about your fight with Jurge. Tora said you managed to use the second move of the Lunar Sword. Is that true?"

Isaki hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes. It wasn't perfect, but I managed to pull it off during the fight."

Izaku leaned back in his chair, his smile growing wider. "The second move of the Lunar Sword... that's not something just anyone can do. It took me years to master it. You've done well, Isaki. I'm proud of you."

Isaki felt a warm glow in his chest at his father's praise. There was no higher compliment than hearing those words from Izaku, the man who had trained him, pushed him, and taught him everything he knew.

"Thanks, Father," Isaki said, his voice quiet but filled with emotion.

Izaku's expression grew more serious, though the warmth never left his eyes. "Isaki, I want to tell you something. Something I've never mentioned before."

Isaki looked at his father, curious. Izaku was not one to talk much about his past. Most of what Isaki knew was from rumors or stories from others in the village.

"I never passed the third year of training," Izaku said, his voice steady. "I never made it into any academy."

Isaki blinked, surprised. "What? But you're... you're one of the strongest warriors I know. How is that possible?"

Izaku chuckled softly. "I wasn't always the man you see before you. When I was your age, I failed my final test—twice, actually. By the time I turned eighteen, I could no longer try again. I wasn't strong enough. I didn't have the skill or the focus. But instead of giving up, I chose a different path."

"What path?" Isaki asked, leaning forward, eager to know more.

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"I became a mercenary," Izaku said. "After turning eighteen, I traveled to the southern territories and sold my sword to whoever needed it. I trained constantly, fought in countless battles, and it was through those years of hard work and failure that my name began to spread."

Isaki listened intently, hanging on every word. He had always known his father was a skilled warrior, but he had never heard this part of the story.

"I met your mother during that time," Izaku continued, his voice softening at the mention of her. "She was a warrior too, and far stronger than I was back then. We fought together, and eventually, we decided to leave that life behind and settle here in the village. But Isaki, I want you to understand something—there are going to be times when you fail. There will be trials ahead that will be even harder than anything you've faced so far. But you must never be afraid of failure."

Isaki felt a lump forming in his throat. His father's words carried the weight of experience, of battles fought and lost.

Izaku placed a hand on Isaki's shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. "The difference between a young warrior and an experienced one isn't just skill. It's that the experienced warrior has failed and suffered far more times than the young one has even tried. I've failed more times than I can count, but each failure made me stronger. It's the same for you. Don't fear failing. Learn from it, rise above it, and keep moving forward."

Isaki nodded, feeling the truth of those words sinking deep into his heart.

"And your mother..." Izaku said, his gaze turning distant as he spoke. "She was just like that. She failed, too. Many times. She lost battles. She couldn't protect everyone she cared about. But she never stopped fighting. She kept looking forward, becoming stronger with every step."

Isaki's heart tightened at the mention of his mother. He didn't have many memories of her, but he knew she had been a great warrior. A swordswoman of the highest caliber.

"She trained at Fate Academy, you know," Izaku continued. "She was one of their best. After graduation, she became a renowned swordswoman, mastering techniques that most could only dream of. But even she struggled, faced defeats... yet always pushed ahead."

Izaku paused, his eyes locking with Isaki's. "Before you were born, your mother was working on a new technique. One she wanted you to learn one day. She called it the Solar Sword, inspired by the Lunar Sword."

Isaki's eyes widened in surprise. "The Solar Sword?"

Izaku nodded and reached into a drawer beside the hearth, pulling out a small, weathered book. He handed it to Isaki. "She only had time to write down the basics before she passed. But she wanted you to have this."

Isaki took the book carefully, feeling the weight of it in his hands. The cover was worn, the pages yellowed with age, but it was clear that his mother had poured her heart into it.

"She believed that one day you would be able to master this technique," Izaku said quietly. "Even though she couldn't finish it herself, she knew that you had the potential to take it further."

Isaki stared at the book, a mixture of emotions swirling inside him—pride, sadness, determination. He had always felt a connection to his mother, even though he had never truly known her. And now, holding this book, it felt as though a piece of her was still with him.

"I'll do it," Isaki whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll master it. I'll make her proud."

Izaku smiled, a soft, approving look in his eyes. "I know you will. And no matter what happens, remember—your mother and I will always be proud of you."

Isaki stood up, clutching the book tightly to his chest. "Thank you, Father. For everything."

Izaku nodded, his smile never fading. "Get some rest. Tomorrow is a new day, and you've got a long journey ahead."

Isaki turned and made his way to his room. Once inside, he sat on his bed, staring at the small book in his hands. He opened it slowly, seeing his mother's delicate handwriting filling the pages. Diagrams, notes, and descriptions of the Solar Sword technique filled the worn parchment.

Lying back on his bed, Isaki held the book above him, staring at it with fierce determination. "I'll learn this technique," he whispered to himself. "I'll become stronger, for her... and for myself."

With that promise etched into his heart, Isaki closed the book and placed it on the nightstand beside him. The weight of the day finally caught up to him, and as he drifted off to sleep, his thoughts were filled with visions of the battles and challenges that awaited him—and the legacy he would carry forward.